


Eternal Ice

by NightfireRed



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: AU - No Professional Hockey Involved (almost), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 02:52:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14559255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightfireRed/pseuds/NightfireRed
Summary: Chicago is the perfect destination if you run away from your past. And it is just as perfect for the start of something new.A quick draft about two cold winters, one hot summer, and a particularly mellow spring in the lives of a workaholic Canadian and a heartbroken American.





	Eternal Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, guys!   
> Thank you for stopping by :)   
> Hope you`ll like this work. Enjoyyyyy ~

“You come here often?”

“No, not really. It`s our, uhm, celebratory night out, with coworkers and-“

“Yea, I got it. You look like it`s the last thing you wanna do now, being here, I mean. You don`t give an impression of being a party guy.”

“You got me here.”

“Yeah. Was pretty obvious. You smoke?”

“No, but thanks nonetheless.”

“For what?”

“For offering.”

“I don`t smoke either, just asking.”

“Oh.

Oh…”

“Hey, Tazer! Our ride`s here, come on.”

“So, Tazer, huh?”

“It`s a nickname, obviously.”

“I`m not as stupid as I might look, _Tazer_.”

“Tazer, come the fuck on or you walking home tonight!”

“Coming! Here, it`s, uh, just take it.”

On that, he leaves Patrick standing alone by a nightclub entrance, with business card in his cold numb fingers, waiting for his uber to arrive. At least that is what he`s told that guy, Tazer. There`s never actually been an uber.

Patrick inhales the frosty air, it makes his head throb. He can swear he still hears bass beats in his head. He takes one last look at the guy he has just been talking with, leaving. Time for Patrick to go home as well. This twenty minute walk seems to take forever now, the wind is blowing mercilessly, way too harsh even for Chicago, first icy snowflakes scratch Patrick`s face like tiny transparent razors.

Maybe his sister was right, after all. He does need to start thinking less about looks and more about his own wellbeing. Getting something warmer than a thin but nice looking coat will be the first step.

He is in Chicago, for Christ`s sake.

Patrick vaguely remembers the walk back home to his apartment complex.   
All that matters is that he is in the safety of his apartment. Hypothermia escaped once again. Shower and clothes change can wait until morning, right? He already hates tomorrow version of himself, foresees how disgusted and even more disappointed he will be. The overwhelming need to black out and just sleep wins regardless. Even this burning curiosity to know that guy`s name fades a bit.  

The business card can definitely wait until tomorrow. Definitely.

As for now – sleep. 

\----------------------------------

The creaky old wooden floor is somewhat pleasantly cool against Patrick`s feet, but he does not mind, in a way it even helps to wake up and not fall back to sleep again. So do a contrast shower and filled to a brim tall glass of ice-cold water. Some time ago, he promised himself to make healthier choices or, frankly speaking, at least to give it a try. Some say that starting a day with melted ice will definitely enhance the quality of life, or whatever that online article said.

Getting some 5 hours of sleep despite coming back home around 2 am is not how Patrick envisioned the beginning of his weekend. Oh well.

He is still tired, Patrick`s body desperately begs him to return to bed and sleep for a couple of centuries more. His mind calls bullshit on that and keeps him restlessly awake.

The phone beeps with notifications somewhere in the hallway. At least it wasn`t stolen, just like on the one of his previous late night crawls. It was an okay night out. Been worse, yet been better as well.

Patrick rummages through the pockets of his “okay-Erica-I-will-get-a-warmer-one” coat and fishes out his phone. Battery almost dead. He is greeted by a barrage of the latest sports news notification on the dimly lit screen. No missed calls, no new messages. No wonder, it`s 7 am on Saturday, meaning that all more or less functioning members of society are either still asleep or busy doing activities like yoga or something soul-mending like that. Once again, perhaps he has read about it in that stupid online article.

Speaking of calls.

Patrick returns to his painfully messy bedroom, yesterday`s clothes is piled on the floor, dirty and sad. He picks up the pair of his black no-Erica-they-are-not-that-tight jeans. He checks the pockets. Yes, here it is, he clearly wasn`t hallucinating then.

Having made a mental note to clean his apartment, he returns to the brightest and coldest room that happens to be a tiny kitchen, joined with a slightly more spacious living room, stops in front of the window. Frost patterns refract sunlight beams prettily.  

Time to take a closer look at the business card he got from that guy yesterday. Or does it technically count as today? Nevermind.

If what he reads is true, then the person who has been pretending to not watch Patrick dancing almost all night long is called Jonathan. And, according to the contact data he works as an “Internal Audit Manager” (whatever that means) in some big shot sounding corporation. There is no photo, just basic info, two landline phone numbers and a corporate email address.

Funny thing is that Patrick can`t recollect a clear picture in his head of how Jonathan looks like. He was definitely taller. Something about awkward dance moves and even more awkward icebreakers. Certain shyness and even timidity. Brown eyes watching Patrick`s every move; Jonathan cracked only by the end of the night and joined Patrick on the already sad looking and deserted dancefloor.

It was just one dance; both of them had already been wiped out. Just one dance that turned into one of the most memorable couple of minutes for Patrick since, well, his unfortunate summer happened.

Patrick`s body remembers last night better than his mind: Jonathan`s warm and strong arms around his waist, nervous laughs, tranquility, and obvious desire that both of them resisted as much as they could.

Come on, neither of them are teenagers anymore. By their late twenties, they definitely know better than hooking up with people you have literally just met for the first time. Awkward morning goodbyes and shame absolutely don`t worth it.

Still, the amount of eye fucking that night between the two was enormous. Which didn`t match at all with stammering and shyness during their conversation in the front of the club.

Deep inside Patrick wishes that Jonathan did not disappear so soon with his douche-y looking alleged coworkers.

On the other hand, up until now Patrick didn`t even know his real name. Thank God “Tazer” has turned out to actually be just a nickname. Probably given to him by the same people he came there yesterday.

Patrick tries not to dwell too much on why his thoughts have suddenly become occupied with a stupidly attractive, insecure guy he met in the nightclub, of all places. He thought better of himself, actually.

That is what loneliness makes to people. Happens with the best of us, desperation, you know?

And no, Patrick Kane definitely doesn`t care that much. Couldn`t care less about that pretentious accountant that has been staring at him for literally hours from the other end of the room. Borderline creepy, isn’t it?

He still remembers how nice and gentle Jonathans tentative touches felt. It was ridiculous, laughing at Jonathan`s blatantly lame jokes.

Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan.

Patrick groans in frustration and throws the business card on the countertop.

There is something scribbled on the flipside.

A phone number accompanied by a smiley face.

What an idiot.

\----------------------------------

“I told you it wouldn`t be that bad, didn`t I?” Corey looks way too enthusiastic and bouncy for a person who singlehandedly consumed the half of the bar some ten hours ago. He nudges still sleepy Jonathan with his elbow, who doesn`t look pleased at all.

Patrick chimes in, slamming the fridge door shut. “Well, I`d say it was just what we all needed. Especially our Jonny, right? You wanna tell us about that guy? What`s his deal?”

“It`s nothing, Shaprie. He was just a guy in a club. We danced. There is nothing to add here.”

“Oh, Tazer, come on! No one spends that much time drooling over someone just because. He caught your eye, didn`t he?”

Jonathan quickly realizes that there is no point in trying to escape this interrogation. Better finish this here and now rather than suffering the entire week at work. He loves his friends, but they can be insufferable at times. At times especially like this, in the hangover morning after a night out.

“Okay, fine,” he sighs and grips his mug with already cold tea tighter. “We talked a bit afterwards and I left him my phone. But there was nothing more, which means no juicy details for you, guys, sorry.”

“At least you got balls to join him for one last dance. He was trying to get your attention all night. Poor boy, he doesn`t know yet that our Jonny is emotionally incomp-”

“Hey, Crow, that`s too much, man,” interrupts Sharpie and smiles at Jonny sympathetically.

“I`m sorry. At least he did look damn good, blond curls and all. Sick dance moves. I think everything`s going to be alright. Whatever happens next, even if he doesn`t call you, after all, that`d be his loss.” Corey finishes his coffee and fixes his shirt, still wrinkled from the last night spent sleeping on the couch in Jonathan`s living room.

“I don`t know anything about him. Even his name. The whole situation is hopeless.”

“Or, it could be the good thing, like, you won`t drive yourself crazy trying to find him, right? My advice here will be to not wait too much from the situation and live on. Whatever happens, happens. Am I right, Crow?”

“I basically have just said the same thing, but yeah. Take it easy, man.”

Then they left. Each to their own homes, where their families are waiting. There is an entire weekend ahead, Patrick mentioned something about going to the movies with Abby, and Crow, well, probably will be busy with his newborn son. They were lucky that Kristy allowed him to go to a club at all.

Perfect life, perfect career, perfect families.

Can`t complain.

The view from Jonathan`s apartment is great. You can see the icebound river with the bridges and even the glimpse of the lake, snowed under rooftops and other endless skyscrapers with neverending wind howling among them. Thing is, Jonathan barely has time to admire this beauty at all. It`s all about work, just like it has always been.

Just like every workaholic, he comes home to sleep. And play a couple of rounds on PlayStation sometimes.

Perfect life, perfect work, perfect, well, paycheck. Add here an extended vacation – all the good stuff.

With 2 days off on his hands, he feels that so much of free time on his hands makes him panic. He could go to the gym like he regularly does, but his hangover body screams “no”.

He could use a run. Late November weather in Chicago is of course suitable for such fun outdoor activities.

He has made a deal with himself in his mind; we will go and check that new coffee shop that recently opened in his area. If he does some of his work there, that won`t count as not having a break, right? He won`t be at home, that what matters.

There is basically nothing to do in his too big for him alone apartment anyway.

Even if Jonathan does feel lonely sometimes, he never admits it. Even to himself. Hard work and dedication over everything. He instantly discards the alluring thoughts about all the possible scenarios where he actually was brave enough to take that blond guy home. With him in his bed, the apartment would not be looking that empty anymore.

Even if just for one night, he didn`t want to be alone.

Desperation, longing. That happens sometimes, even to the best of us. No one is meant to have a lonesome life. Or maybe this saying is only a neatly constructed pile of consolation words, maybe it doesn`t work this way.

Regardless,

It`s time for a drive.

He has work to do, he is not a teen anymore, right? One night stands don`t worth it anyway.

\----------------------------------

After an awkward conversation with a lovely barista girl, he finally got his Aeropress, Ethiopian beans and all. Whatever has higher caffeine level in it will suffice.

Suddenly coffee seems more like an intricate, almost scientific-level drink to make. Gotta be clever to know all of the weights and measures to make a really good cup of coffee, eh?

Jonathan takes a place in the far end of this rather spacious coffee shop, further from the entrance and closer to the power sockets.

He switches his MacBook on and starts with sorting his emails. As usual, he is greeted with a pile of corporate notice messages, calendar reminders, and deadlines notifications. Jonny is usually ahead of the schedule and does work in advance (not like he has a family to spend free time with, or not that he has, well, life) but today something doesn`t feel right. He decides to open a new tab to watch sports recap while he enjoys his fancy hipster coffee (which tastes rich and versatile, and maybe, just maybe Jonathan will never have another Starbucks in his life, because, damn. His life was a lie. After so many years he has discovered how true coffee should taste like, at last.)

The transition from reality to the daydream musing went smooth and unnoticed, so it was quite a shocking reality check when Jonathan looked at the small numbers in the corner of the monitor that showed ten am. Spent good twenty minutes recollecting memories of the last night; everything was kind of blurry, but he remembers the sensations, how good it felt.

Corey was right. That guy looked amazing. Messy blond curls that definitely were styled in the beginning of the night, blue eyes, awkward smile. He also looked somewhat sad, despite being literally the center of everyone`s attention. Both girls and guys. Maybe that was what repulsed Jonathan. He didn`t want to come off as a creepy dude with only one thing on the mind. (Even though that was in a way creepy indeed, staring all night at the dancing guy on the dancefloor, only to join at the end of the night.) It was just captivating, watching him, just being around. At some point Jonathan just wanted to stay there on the icy slippery street by the club and keep this awkward conversation going for some time more, even at risk of coming off as clingy and desperate.

There was something about last night and about him.

Jonathan feels disappointed in himself. Falling for anyone definitely wasn`t on his to-do list, yet he can`t stop thinking about someone he met less than 24 hours ago and whose name he hadn`t even asked for. Was there a chance that he`d have heard a real name, if he did ask? They barely exchanged a couple of generic phrases, danced for like six minutes and kept eyes locked on each other all night long.

That`s it.

Apparently it was enough for Jonathan`s brain to cling to these memories as if his life depended on it. It could be anything from touch starvation and loneliness to alcohol in his blood system and the inviting atmosphere of the place. Nevertheless, his brain discards all the reasonable answers and lets his romantic side take over rationalism.

Pathetic indeed.

To feel less shitty and useless, Jonathan starts doing something he is good, no, great at. Working.

Another weekend day spent one on one with laptop`s blue light and keyboard keys clicking.

At least he was outside the walls of his stylishly looking apartment. Plus he got to taste the best to date coffee of his life.

It could have been worse, right?

He unlocks his parked car and looks at the dark sky with snowflakes gracelessly flying in every direction.

No, these definitely are not tears in Jonathan`s eyes. It`s the wind, he`s in Chicago, for Christ`s sake. And he is tired. So damn tired.

\----------------------------------

Patrick runs his eyes over his living space. (No-Erica-I-do-not-live-like-a-hermit-thank-you-very-much)

Following wellness articles online and painfully flaunting motivational YouTube videos, he gets down to cleaning the apartment. Thank God his place isn`t big. He doesn`t need much space anyway.

The fridge content resembles the apartment itself, too empty and sad. Patrick makes another mental note, shopping it is. Everything to not stay in for too long.

Despite the merciless wind, slight hangover and unreal low temperature outside he gets out of his apartment complex. The short way to his car seems an eternity.

He doesn`t even bother greeting his neighbors that are busy anyway with digging their car out of snow. Well, their bad, they knew the snowstorm was coming.

The shopping mall is packed with people. Weekend shopping, the best price deals and endless checkout lines.

To not lose his cool he dials a number he know by heart. He needs a company. He needs –

“Look who decided to give me a call! Isn`t that my lovely brother-”

“No need to be petty, Erica. I really do wanna talk to you. You have a minute?”

“Yeah, duh. It`s Saturday morning. You`re lucky I decided to get up earlier today. Anyway, what`s good in Chicago? You still drag out your miserable existence without warm clothes and a Netflix account?”

Patrick rolls his eyes, but such greeting is nothing new to him. He knows his sister truly cares.

“For your information, Erica, first, it`s way past midday, second, I do not live on the streets. You always tell mom things about me that aren`t true. She`s worried and I don`t want her to be worried, you know that.” He smirks.

“So, brother,” Patrick hears a smile in his sister`s voice. “There must be a reason you called me, and since it`s your birthday tomorrow, I would like to make a wild guess and assume that you`re coming back home for the weekend?”

The heavy silence seems to have stretched for way too long, it has gotten suspicious. Patrick doesn`t have a heart to tell his sister the truth. But she picks up on subtle details quickly. She is way too good at this, too good even for her own sake sometimes.

“So, you are not coming, are you? Nevermind, not like we haven`t seen each other since Christmas or something.”

Patrick is suddenly very aware of his surroundings - crowded shopping mall, advertisements echoing in the distance, he, trapped between the shelves stacked with cereals.

He hates feeling this miserable.

He loves his family. He also hates thinking about how he once packed his things and moved to another city, just like that. He was love-struck crazy and down to do literally anything to follow a girl he once dearly loved.

“But you`ve visited me here couple of times, I came home for Easter…”

“Pat, I came to Chicago to check up on you because it was scary as fuck, that situation. I swear to god I was ready to slice that bitch up for treating you the way she did. We`ve talked about that before, I know. So I don`t wanna come back to this again. Apparently, just like you don`t wanna come back home,” Erica`s voice sounds broken but she does her best to hide it.

She is right. Has always been right.

“I miss you, Pat. We all miss you here. I just want to stay up and watch lame TV shows and make fun of people with you, and go hiking, like we used to. We could do so many other fun things, like, have a normal conversation, for once. Snapchat doesn`t cut it anymore.”

“Erica, listen, I -”

“No, you listen. Just, whatever you decide on doing tomorrow on your birthday, please, promise me that you won`t spend it alone, okay? You hear me, Pat? Don`t push the world away at least. You did that to us once, but, so you know, we are always here for you. So you better promise me, Patrick, that you won`t spend your birthday in solitude.”

“I promise, Erica. And I`m sorry. It`s just…”

“Complicated still, I know. Oh, and mom wants to facetime with you tomorrow. Do us at least this favor, make an effort to talk to her. She`s worried,” Erica`s voice gets quieter. “Bye, Pat. See you whenever.”

The line dies. Patrick wants to punch something, he knows he`s been the reason of all major issues in his family for the past couple of years. He`s been causing too much pain. It goes on, and he is not ready to face the reality.

He is a coward. He admits it.

He is not ready to face the consequences.

One thing he can still do is fulfilling his promise.

Whatever happens, happens.

One quick grocery shopping done, lines survived and shopping bags locked in the trunk. Patrick sits in his car, phone in the hand, waiting for the engine to warm up.

“Oh, fuck it,” he sighs in frustration and hits the call button.

There is no immediate answer, of course.

Why does he even think it`s Jonathan`s number, could be just another –

“Uhm, hello?”

Patrick forgets for a second or two how to process thoughts into words.

“Oh, hey. Hi, Jonathan. That`s uhm, Patrick.”

He doesn`t like the pause hanging on the line.

“Patrick? Sharpie, is that you? If that`s you then all I have to say is: not funny.”

He didn`t even tell him his name. What an awkward start.

“No, no. I mean, I don`t know which Patrick you have on your mind, but, damn, do you remember last night? We danced and then talked and then you gave me your business card. So here I am… You can tell me to fuck off, if you don’t wanna talk. I`d understand.”

Patrick wishes so badly he were at the top of the Sears Tower now, so that he could just leap down from it. This conversation is a trainwreck from the first seconds of it. He wants to punch himself for nervous blabbering.

There is another pause. The silence once again lasts for way too long for Patrick`s liking.

The line comes back to life.

“No, why would I? It was me who asked you to call, after all. I am glad you did.” Another pause. “So, Patrick, then. Nice to meet you, Patrick. I`m Jonathan, as you already know.”

Patrick can`t tell in what mood Jonathan is, but his voice sounds something between smugness, amusement and exhaustion.

“I am pleased to know that your name is not actually “Tazer”, even though it does sound, uhm, impressive.”

“Thanks, that`s, well, that were my friends who gave me this nickname, and it kind of have stayed. Same friends I went to the club with, you`ve seen them. And about the beginning of this conversation, sorry I took you for another person. For that I apologize, it was kind of rude on my behalf.”

It has just taken an unexpected turn. How do people even react to this, with such over the top politeness? And such details, shared so soon with someone you barely know.

“It`s okay. No worries. Actually, the reason I called… Do you have any plans for tomorrow?”

Patrick prays for whatever response Jonathan will give, it happening very quickly.

“I, uhh, nothing in particular, to be honest. Why?” Now there`s caution clear in his voice.

“I thought, you know, if you have nothing against it, we could go somewhere? I mean, just hang out, do stuff, talk. Not in the creepy way, of course, haha.”

The nervous laugh at the end makes Patrick think of the Sears Tower once again. This conversation will be the death on him anyway, or so he thinks.

This manner, taking time to come up with an answer is already driving Patrick crazy, slowly and surely.

“That is actually a great idea, Patrick. I am down for it. Do you have something particular on your mind?”

“No, it can be whatever. Preferably a place where it`s not so damn cold…” Patrick hold his breath for a second, to calm down his nerves. “I just wanna meet again. In different circumstances.”

Patrick`s knuckles have turned white, so tightly he grips on the steering wheel of his car. Can they possibly snap?

“Would it be weird if I told you that I`d really love to see you again as well?”

“Not weirder than the circumstances we met in, in the first place. So I`ll send you a couple of places, we could choose from. Deal?”

“Deal it is. So save time and date. See you tomorrow, Patrick.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

The snow is still decking out the streets and rooftops. It looks crispy and sparkly in the lights of streetlamps and neon signs.

Patrick smiles all the way back to his apartment. He has a company for his birthday. Mission accomplished. For the record, his tomorrow company happens to be pretty much promising.

Jonathan thinks that his second consecutive day off does not promise to be so pitifully lonely anymore.

He looks out of the windows, mesmerized how pretty snowfall actually can be. Anything in your surroundings could be pretty, if you actually stop for a second and look around, take everything in.

Life goes on.

\----------------------------------

The day has been going smoothly and calmly. Even borderline comforting. Which is a new notion for Patrick. It`s always either a one night stand or an exceedingly boring date, the one where you are way too aware of what you do in order to enjoy yourself. It rarely happens to be something inbetween. Moreover, there aren`t many people Patrick properly dated, to begin with.

Later on he learns that Jonathan is not a dating expert either, and Patrick wants to call bullshit on this, as after they both had almost gotten into a fight upon choosing a place to go, they ended up eating brunch at IHOP. Like, seriously, that takes a lot of courage to dive straight in such phase where you do not feel awkward eating in front of a person you met literally a day ago.  

“I`m starving. Don`t know about you, but I`m craving some pancakes. And I`ll spare you from a maple syrup joke, eh.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes but can`t hide a fond smile.

Patrick feels eerily comfortable around Jonathan. The latter though looks a bit cautious, almost too careful with every move and word, as if he did something wrong and is scared that Patrick would get mad.

Jonathan was late, yes. Nothing major, some ten minutes. But he`s been apologizing as if he killed someone on the way.

Canadians and their inescapable manners.

Sounds corny, but it does feel as if they knew each other at a certain point of their lives and now came the moment of the reunion. The conversation flows smoothly, spiced with a healthy dose of sarcastic jokes from both parties. It is amusing, for Patrick to pick up certain character traits of Jonathan, something like occasional complete misunderstanding of jokes, or playfulness out of nowhere. And competitiveness brought to the level of ridiculousness.

Patrick likes him a good challenge. So does Jonathan, apparently.

“I can cook better, make better pancakes. But these ones aren`t the worst, I must admit,” says Jonathan with a smug grin. He still averts his eyes every time Patrick makes an attempt to catch his gaze.

This nervous tension is getting too much. Patrick snaps first.

“Okay, time to switch things up. Get up and grab your stuff. We`re going out.” Patrick ignores the instantly panicked and worried look on Jonathan`s face. “We are heading for some drinks. You need to relax. So do I.”

Jonathan complies immediately, which is a surprise. No protests at all. Once again, as if he`s ready to follow Patrick anywhere and do anything as long as he`s not causing any trouble.

Patrick also ignores the fact that his, well, for the lack of a better word, date, leaves indecently generous tips. The waitress smiles brightly and quickly rushes to her coworker, squealing excitedly.

Good deed for today number one – check.

It is only around three pm. So they opt for 2 drinks each only. This is a wise move, despite already feeling comfortable around each other, that would be a shame to ruin such a progress with too much alcohol consumed.

And there is a catch. Of course there always is.

The universe decides to outplay Patrick in his own game of shaking things up. Smooth and calm day is promising to no longer stay such.

“Rules are rules, so I have to ask you to show me you ID, please.”

The bartender gives Patrick a polite smile after having studied his driver`s license thoroughly.

“Oh, happy birthday, sir! Thank you for choosing our place. We are happy to offer you our special birthday deals. Here is the menu.”

Patrick mumbles a quick “thanks” and turns back to Jonathan only to find him having this unreadable face expression again. The combo of sadness, rage, and confusion.

Happens when he doesn`t understand what`s going on.

“You have a birthday today. Why didn`t you tell me?” asks Jonathan quietly.

Patrick sighs and closes his eyes for a second.

“I`ll grab us drinks and be back, okay?”

Jonathan nods but says nothing. Patrick longingly watches him returning to their table.

It is going to be a long story.

\----------------------------------

Jonatan feels on the verge of breaking down. The medley of events occurs too fast.

Or maybe Jonathan is winding up the situation himself and in reality everything is not as complicated as it seems.

He can`t be that lonely, can he?

He hates being out of control, nervous. He has clearly lost his grip with dating.

He looks at Patrick across the room.

He is definitely handsome, in a classic way. Outspoken, straightforward, acts as if he is bored of people yet craves being in the spotlight. Has a weird sense of humor. Likes breakfast, hockey and winning. Courageous. Wild. A showoff.

Has a birthday on November 19.

Jonathan frowns. His brilliant analytical and rational mind definitely malfunctions whenever Patrick is around. Corny but true.

It is scary because it is a new experience, never happened before.

He wonders what happens next.

So does Patrick.

He has made an order, for both him and Jonathan, but took his time to stay by the bar for a bit longer.

Life is spinning like crazy in this very moment.

He is spending the day of his twenty-seventh birthday in a company of a bossy Canadian who he met a day ago. Literally. He can already hear his sister`s voice in his head “well, no difference from a tinder hookup, right?”

That Canadian Jonathan who happens to be a total dork. Control freak that possesses so many pet peeves that it`s ridiculous. Workaholic with way too many problems he doesn`t want to admit to have.

He rarely smiles. When he does, it is definitely genuinely.

He is easy to have conversations with, despite the fact that he sometimes does not understand the most obvious of the jokes or blatant sarcasm. Tends to take everything too serious. Excellent chef, or so he says. Responsible, neat, polite.

Attractive as hell. Or maybe just Patrick`s type.

Definitely clever. Likes to be a leader. Well, too bad, Jonathan, so does Patrick.

The game is on.

And it doesn`t matter who wins as long as they both enjoy the process.

“Here are your drinks, sir. Enjoy your time.”

Patrick grabs the glasses and returns to the table.

“So, happy twenty something, mister Kane? Wish I could know earlier, would`ve bought you a present.” Jonathan raises his drink in a toast.

“It`s twenty seven actually. I doubt that at this age people actually get presents. Well, cheers, mister Toews.”

The bar eventually filled up with people, random girls tried to join them every now and then. One girl even stole a kiss from Patrick, with the followed excuse that it was a bet she couldn`t lose.

Well, maybe it can count as a good deed number two.

Regardless of annoying people, they still had damn good drinks (just two, as agreed), versatile conversation infused with semi inappropriate jokes and overall pleasant time.

Without pining involved.

Almost.

You know it`s time to go when it is getting too hot and all the ice in your drink melts and the music plays too loud.

The strong feel of deja-vu washes over the both of them when they step out of the bar into the deep night of Chicago.

Two of them again. With a not so healthy dose of alcohol beverages in their blood systems. And no one around this time to interfere.

“Feel like taking a walk? If you want to, of course.”

“Sorry?” Patrick wakes up from his mellow state he`s been the rest of the night in.

“I mean, we`re not far from the Riverwalk.”

Patrick gives Jonathan coy smile. “I`ll follow wherever you lead, captain. Haha. Let`s go!”

Jonathan grabs Patrick`s hand because the latter clearly glides on the icy pavement. “Someone definitely need some help here. You clearly aren`t a NHL player undercover.”

“Hey, you, captain Canada. If we were on the real ice rink, I`d have demolished you. Totally.”

“Well, bad news for you is that I do live up to some Canadian standards. So hockey is in my veins. Watch out who you talk to.”

“Dork,” Patrick shoves Jonathan lightly. “I`m still the best. If I were in the League, I`d totally be advertising so much cool stuff, for I am soooo gooood.”

“Something as lame as, I don`t know, Stanley Cup popcorn makers you mean?” Jonathan is in the game clearly, smugly enjoying himself as much as he`s enjoying the view in front of him. Patrick is trying to stay upright while spinning on the ice-covered pavement patches.

“Shut up, you. Consider yourself lucky if they let your face somewhere near some toaster or something.”

“Too many somethings, Patrick. Step up your vocabulary game.”

“Gimme your hand and get going,” pouts Patrick but the fond smile threatens to resurface on his face nonetheless.

And thirty minutes later when they stand by the churros stall that is still open and Patrick is breaking the hot sticky pastry with his cold fingers and eats it, making almost illegal moaning noises, Jonathan finds himself mesmerized and willingly unable to tear his eyes from Patrick.

This moment they share in the middle of the windy Riverwalk is so domestic. A moment frozen in the river of time.

Patrick is fully aware that he`s being watched. He loves attention. Especially attention from the right people.

Johnny, churros, winter. Feeling giddy, even after the magic spell of alcohol wears off.

He wants to stay here like this as long as possible. Or as long as he still can feel his fingers and face without dying of hypothermia.

Thank you, Erica for making this birthday happy indeed.

Time to make a wish. 

\----------------------------------

Jonathan never felt so reluctant to go to work as he does on the following Monday.

He is a professional, and he is going to keep it professional.

Nine am, on the spot, clocking in.

And of course there is Sharpie, all blinding smile and perfect hairstyle, waiting right for him. By the coffee maker. Seriously, when did he turn into an American? He`s been working here as long as Jonathan, meaning that the summer will mark the two years of them living in Chicago. Did the previous life in Canada exist at all? Jonathan sometimes finds himself doubting it.

“Good morning, Jonny. How`s the weekend been?”

Jonathan`s reaction is a millisecond too late and that has definitely not slipped out of Patrick`s attention. “Good, good. It`s been really, well, interesting.”

Patrick pats Jonathan`s shoulder and smiles again, “Interesting enough to skip Abby`s dinner. Your miss. Also, check the latest mail I sent. We are going to have a hell of a week.”

“So, nothing new then?” He retaliates.

“Damn right, Tazer.”

Jonathan comes to his workplace, a spacious office he was kindly offered all for himself. The floor to ceiling panoramic windows are sufficient light source and as a bonus provide enchanting view on the city that a bit more than a year ago gave not so warm welcome to Jonathan.

Sometimes he thinks that he finally caught the same wave with it.

Sharpie instantly felt here like home. Or maybe the secret was that he literally brought his home, i.e. family along. Jonathan had only himself to rely on. Even back in Canada where they still worked together, he was by himself.

The intra-company transfer didn`t help much.

Or did it?

It is not only about the money and better job perspectives, that`s for sure.

Sometimes he wishes it were summer again. Yet Chicago looks dangerously stunning in winter.

\----------------------------------

First thing that Jonathan sees when he wakes up is Patrick sitting on the bed, typing something on his laptop. He`s fully dressed and looks like he`s been up for some time.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” He asks, never breaking the eye contact with the monitor.

Jonathan frowns at this question. Holidays season, of course. The time when even his masochistic mind starts doubting his mental abilities, physical endurance and devotion to the job. There`s never too much documents and meetings and evaluating cases, but it is the end of the year, which entails unimaginable amount of work. Any kind of fun is prohibited before everything is properly done at the office.

Paychecks that he earns require a certain amount of sacrifice, right? Or so Jonathan comforts himself.

“Good morning to you, too, Pat,” Jonathan rubs his still sleepy eyes and sighs heavily.

“Oh. Good morning. So what about Christmas?” Echoes Patrick absent-mindedly.

“I actually do not know. Need to call my parents, haven`t been home for a while. But it all depends on the workload. Why?” Jonathan gets up and slowly dresses up. He could use more sleep, no doubt in that. Even the easiest tasks like putting on clothes take way too much time these days.

Patrick remains silent, all he does is briefly raising his eyes on Jonathan, nodding in response and returning to typing.

Jonathan shrugs and goes to the bathroom. Morning routine gives him some time to recollect the thoughts.

They`ve been seeing each other for about three weeks, Patrick and Jonathan. Neither can call whatever happens between them proper dating or a relationship, but they are positive that it is a start of something feasible in the long run.

It is lavishing, even (almost) without physical contact. They often kiss, sometimes cuddle, occasionally make out.

The time spent in each other`s company – that`s what they enjoy the most. And none is willing to break this bond yet. They take their time. They have to.

Each carries extensive baggage of painful breakups and memories, and each wants to do their best to finally make things work.

Jonathan comes back to Patrick`s bedroom.

Patrick himself is looking expectantly at Jonathan.

“There is something I need to tell you. I should have done it in the very beginning, but maybe that could`ve scared you off.”

Jonathan nods and sits on the bed beside Patrick, their shoulders lightly brush.

It was mostly a monologue. Patrick just kept on talking, inconsistently, losing the trail of thoughts here and there. He was talking about everything, from how he dropped out of college in Buffalo to follow the girl of his dreams to Chicago only to find out that she`d been cheating on him all along. Then followed the struggles of finding a job and apartment, with subsequent temporal problems with alcohol, anger issues, and shame that keeps him from returning home ever since.

“You might think that I`m a psycho, and I won`t blame you for this, because I actually am. And if you wonder why I`m telling all of this to you now, then here`s the answer. I am going to Buffalo for Christmas. For the first time in 2 years. And I am not leaving until I fix everything. I fucked up my own family by making them choose a side. I am so damn ashamed and scared to simply look at my mom`s eyes, Jonathan. How messed up is that?”

They sit in silence for a while. Patrick crying inaudibly, Jonathan pretending he doesn`t notice it.

This story just gathered all the bits and pieces that Jonathan heard before. This didn`t make him like Patrick less, but made him realize how bland his own life is.

Good family, private school and full scholarship colleges, boyfriends and girlfriends from respectable families, well-paid job, literal marriage with lots of hard work that was meant to lead Jonathan to something better and great.

In reality, he was running from himself, scared to face his own normalcy and tediousness and fear to disappoint people.

Patrick is alive. He is living his life, filled with the full spectrum of emotions.

As for Jonathan, well… “Do you think I`m a failure, as a person?” The question was targeted at Jonathan himself, yet he has said it out loud.

“What the hell are you talking about? You? Of all people. That`s not a contest to determine who hates their life more, Jonny,” snaps Patrick bitterly.

“I`m so scared.”

“I know.”

Jonathan wraps his arms around Patrick, holds him close, safe and comforting. For both of them.

“You will do great, Pat, I know that. They are your family,” Jonathan cups Patrick`s face in his palms, “And I will be just one call away, okay?”

With this, Jonathan gingerly presses his lips to Patrick`s.

Maybe there is still a chance to mend the situation, after all, even with so much damage caused.

“Will you make a breakfast? Please?” Patrick asks coyly, his lips wet and slightly puffy. And when Jonathan opens his eyes and takes a look at Patrick, he realizes how different his feelings are now. He is terrified, for not the feels themselves but for the fear of losing what he has.

How dramatic. Jonathan admits it wholeheartedly.

The end of the year is creeping slowly. Can`t think of a better moment to start registering feelings instead of ignoring them.

But for now. Breakfast.

Pancakes, Patrick`s favorite. So be it.

\----------------------------------

The wind from the lake doesn`t help at all. Chicago is melting.

The sun is merciless this summer, concrete multiplies the heat, and every cloud in the sky has miraculously disappeared.  

After 2 years spent in the US, Jonathan can`t recall the weather as hot as at this very moment. He`s already caught cold twice, thanks to the AC and water coolers at the office. He can`t go on his runs either, hot air makes it impossible to breathe.  

Everyone prays that the forecast for the next week is correct and the city will be blessed with rain. So what there will be a huge chance of a hurricane. Anything for a change of this angry sun would suffice.

Jonathan refills his cup with lemonade. He is so hot he is on the verge of starting chewing straight ice. It`s totally worth it, spending time on the fresh air, away from pristine white shirts, tight neckties, and god awful coffee.

This lovely June weekend Sharpie`s family is hosting a barbecue party. Funny, how life can change in just under a year. During the first summer in Chicago Abbie decided to throw a party to meet the neighbors and establish new contacts. They knew no one in the city. This year they already have a close circle of friends, which, frankly speaking, resembles a family now. Jonathan still can`t wrap his mind around the fact that his Patrick and Sharpie are practically besties now. Who`d have known.  

Jonathan takes a look at the party commenced this hot afternoon. He is so happy to be here in this moment, surrounded by people he dearly cherishes. There is Corey and Kristy who instantly got in the middle of everyone`s attention as they took baby Cooper with them. Abby and Sharpie can`t stop awing and telling everyone the stories about Sadie and Madelyn to discontent of both girls. By the backyard pool chill Nick and Vinnie, the company`s summer interns. They all, together with Sharpie`s daughters, huddle around a phone, watching a new episode of some popular animated show. Good and smart guys, they definitely have a bright future ahead. It was so nice of Abby and Sharpie to somewhat guard them, parent-style. They are Canadians, couldn`t be any other way.

And of course there`s Patrick. Or Kaner, how Sharpie immediately started to call him. “To avoid confusion, you know?”

Sharpie was furious that Jonathan hadn`t told him back then that he`d been seeing someone for more than three months already. It was Easter and it happened almost by accident. Who knew that the coffeehouse selection in Chicago is so limited? Kind of funny, you bring your date to grab some coffee and instead run into your friend and his family out for Sunday lunch.

Time flew surprisingly fast.

Seems like they have just had their first proper date at the United Center in January. “I don`t care what plans you had for tonight. We`re going to watch the game.” And how Hawks are the Stanley Cup winners, led by the youngest captain in the history of NHL. “This guy, Alex. He`s only, like, what, twenty? This kid is a game-changer. He is the future.”

The first couple of months were rocky. Jonathan even brought up the topic of breaking up since everything back then was crumbling despite all the effort. Patrick`s response was immediate and harsh.

They didn`t speak for almost two weeks.

This gave them time to cool down.

Neither have said it out loud yet, not even after six months. They loved each other.

Jonathan is absolutely positive that he is in love. Not the lovesick, dramatic, overemotional type of love. He`s had his own fair share of it. Now it feels more like a companionship, a deeper bond and endless devotion.

Thing is, he is not sure that they are exactly on the same page with Patrick.

Patrick, who is emotional, extroverted, fearless, whose sense of pride and dignity is too strong for his own good.

Jonathan is paralyzed with fear that one day Patrick would simply tell him to his face that he`s not enough. And would be right.

The party was awesome while it lasted, now it naturally approached its ending. Corey and his family left first. Nick and Vinnie decided to continue the fun and headed out to a bar somewhere in the general direction of the downtown. That left Jonathan and Patrick who volunteered to help with cleaning.

“How very nice of you, guys. Thank you. You know, actually, we promised the girls to buy them ice cream but I totally forgot about it. Could you take them to the café down the street? Please?” The look on Abby`s face left no place for declining this offer, and that`s how “uncle Patrick” left with Sharipe`s kids. It was hard to tell who was more excited, the girls, or Patrick.

“He`s so good with kids, Jonny. They adore him,” smiles Abby.

Jonathan smiles as well, “He likes kids. He wants to come back to college, obtain his license to be able to work as a hockey coach full time. He misses this work and misses the ice.”

“Speaking of work,” Sharpie chimes in. “Have you told him about your tenure yet?”

“No, not really. There is still time till the end of the year. And there is a chance of me being granted with another tenure, so I don`t want to stir things up now. I`ll keep on working hard. It`s the only option left.”

His stay in Chicago was limited from the very beginning. Sharpie got a job promotion and was moved to the head office here permanently, while Jonathan was on a 2.5-year contract. The company`s board haven`t made their mind yet, regarding of whether keep Jonathan here for a bit longer or wave him goodbye back to the Winnipeg office. “We will see if your help will be needed after this accounting year is over, mister Toews.”

Patrick doesn`t know that.

It was never meant to be a permanent thing, but here they are. The relationship with Patrick is the only thing Jonathan is sure of in his life as of now. Jonathan is not ready to ruin it, even though deep inside he understands that he basically lies to the person he loves.

Sharpie nods knowingly though lets Jonathan know that he strongly suggests him telling Patrick the truth as soon as possible.

That would be devastating news for Patrick. He won`t survive another long distance relationship. He did that once, threw away his previous life for another person, built a new one in a different city. And Jonathan doesn`t have heart to tell him that most likely by the end of the year he will be transferred back to Canada. It would be cruel and selfish on Jonathan`s behalf to demand Patrick leave his newly restored life in Chicago just like that.

Especially when there is a huge chance of Patrick not seeing their relationship as something permanent.

\----------------------------------

Long story short, the year doesn`t end well.

With Jonathan`s contract terminated, tickets to Winnipeg booked, and Patrick resuming his studies at college back in Buffalo there is nothing that holds either of them in Chicago anymore.

Except for the memories.

“Why couldn`t you work in a fucking Toronto?” Patrick wipes his tears angrily, rage and grief clouding his mind. “So that`s how it`s going to end? All of this?” he continues, hands weakly waving in the air.

Jonathan keeps silence. His head hanging down.

Shame that they didn`t even have a chance to meet each other`s families or celebrate Christmas or go on vacation together.

“When is your fight?”

Jonathan flinches at this suddenly loud question and finally looks at Patrick again.

“Thursday morning.”

“I`ll drive you to the airport then.”

The last couple of days in Chicago are nerve-wracking for Jonathan. He goes to his beloved coffee shop one last time; it is a strange experience, to walk in there without a laptop and a ton of paperwork.

He takes the place by the ice-decorated windows and looks at the city, letting this new reality to sink in. He is not coming back here in the near future.

There will be no more Hawks games for him, no running along the Riverwalk, no inhumane winters.

No more lazy mornings at Patrick`s place or all-night PlayStation marathons at his condo.

God, he already misses Patrick, so much.

They didn`t technically break up. Yet. “We`ll think of something. We`ll figure it out.”

Thursday morning comes unexpectedly soon. Patrick, as promised, waits for Jonathan in the car. The ride to the airport takes longer than been planned, thanks to the heavy snowfall and traffic jams and Patrick taking the longer routes.

Neither of them attempts to initiate a conversation.

Last thing Patrick tells Jonathan is, “If you meet someone new, please, don`t feel guilty about it. I am not keeping you in chains or anything. You do what you gotta do.”

“Why would you say that, Pat?” asks Jonathan incredulously.

Patrick gives him a weak smile and locks their eyes. “Because I love you, idiot. Want you to be happy. Always have.”

“You know that I love you too, right?”

Patrick nods and kisses Jonathan slowly.

\----------------------------------

Spring in Winnipeg is nasty, thanks to the wind and rains. Jonathan decides this time to walk to his work because he is miserable like that. What else could he wish for: he still has his job, his family and old friends around? He basically returned to the life he had some three years ago.

Why does he hate this place so much, all of a sudden?

He asks himself this question more frequently with every passing day. Of course, the answer is clear.

He misses Patrick.

But this fact shouldn`t cause any hostile emotions towards his surroundings. He is not a teenager to let himself feel this compulsive, emotions-driven way.

He stops by a nice-looking coffee shop, there are no big expectations but Jonathan decides to give it a try anyway.

Music there is pleasantly quiet, coffee itself tastes acceptable, and Jonathan considers this place as a potential office in case the emptiness of his apartment becomes overwhelming.

Without Patrick, it is hard to find the way back to the life where work does not consume every bit of time and piece of mind.

“There really is more to the world apart from deadlines and excel tables.”

Patrick said it during one of many nights in futile attempt to make Jonathan go to bed at a reasonable time.

One night Jonathan lost it and helplessly cried for an hour in Patrick`s arms.

“Maybe there is more. But not for me.”

Jonathan looks outside - damp weather still occupies the streets. He contemplates whether to take a day off. Gray walls in his office look even more depressing than the outside.

Just like this weather, everything is temporal and all things go.

Jonathan smiles when he sees the caller`s id on his phone. 

After all, Patrick promised they would figure everything out. Eventually.  

**Author's Note:**

> You`ve made it till the end!   
> Thank you for reading - that means a lot to me. Any kind of feedback would be appreciated. But, please, don`t forget about manners, politeness, and respect. :)


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